Dream Date Nightmare
by karly05
Summary: Vanessa's Prom Date, Andy Arden, turns out not to be the Nice Guy she thinks he is. Luckily, she has friends she can rely on. Ferb/Vanessa Friendship.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N – I think this is the first thing I've written that I've specifically classified as "hurt/comfort." This is another in my "Ferb/Vanessa Friendship" series. The "flashback"/memory structure was a real battle this time; I hope it came out more or less all right. All the characters except for Andy Arden belong to Dan Povenmire and Jeff "Swampy" Marsh.**

Dream Date Nightmare – Part One

Vanessa stumbled through the twisting corridors, heart pounding, pulse racing, panic driving her forward. She was in what was supposed to be the high school, but everything was mixed up and unfamiliar. It was night, lights were dim and unsteady, and the occasional flicker of brightness only lured her to another locked door or stairway to nowhere. Rough voices, their words unintelligible, echoed in the depths of the building, and hulking shadows – whether of men or beasts, she couldn't tell – haunted the edges of her vision. She found a passage that promised escape, but the farther into it she went, the more narrow it grew, until it ended in a wall. Frustration choking her, she pounded her fists against the barrier. She could sense the shadows and echoes closing in, then rough arms clamped around her, pushing her against the bricks and pinning her there. She could feel the hot breath of her attacker, his full weight pressed against her back, trapping her, crushing her. She tried to wrestle herself free, but he only tightened his grip and muttered indecipherable taunts, his sweltering cheek pressed against hers. Vanessa could feel herself screaming, forcing the breath from her throat, but no sound came. Convulsing, she strained with all her might to cry out, to shout, to shriek, but she could make no sound. All she could do was think _NO! NO! NO!…_

With a jolt, she awoke. Wild eyed, she struggled to sit up, fighting her way out of a cocoon of flannel and linen. Sweaty and shaking, she was confused for a moment by her unfamiliar surroundings, then her head began to clear. She was in Candace's room, in Candace's bed, wearing Candace's spare nightgown. The sound of soft, steady breathing prompted her to look to the floor, where Candace slumbered peacefully in her nest made of air mattress and sleeping bags. Vanessa was glad she hadn't awakened the other girl. Kicking away the covers, she drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her folded legs. Even though her brain knew she had just had a bad dream, her body still trembled, and she shuddered at the sensations she couldn't yet shake off.

Vanessa hadn't even wanted to go to the stupid Prom. Her punk friends had blown it off as lame, and it wasn't as if she had a boyfriend to go with. But her mother had made this huge deal out of it, insisting that decades from now, when Vanessa was in a rocking chair at the Old Folks' Home, the greatest regret of her life would be _not going to her Senior Prom_, and the girl had finally given in. Mom had even found her a date. Some other woman on the Tri-State Area Arts Commission had a son Vanessa's age who was graduating from a suburban high school on the other side of Danville. He was a Nice Boy from a Nice Family, and he was going away in the fall to some exclusive private university en route to becoming a brain surgeon or rocket scientist or something. He was probably a big dork, thought Vanessa, but she had agreed to meet him for coffee, as a sort of preliminary interview.

Andy Arden had turned out not to be a big dork. He was tall and not bad looking, with dark, wavy hair and gray eyes. He was Captain of the swim team, and President of the French club, and Vanessa had found him pleasant company. Their Prom Date had started off encouragingly. He had picked her up in his Dad's sleek sports car, and taken her to dinner at Piccolo, arguably still Danville's trendiest restaurant. Sure, the portions were tiny, but the atmosphere was unmatched. By the time they had reached the high school gymnasium, Vanessa had found herself actually having fun. Andy loved to dance as much as she did, and he was good at it, too. He had waited on her hand and foot, bringing punch and refreshments every time she had expressed the desire to get off her feet for a bit. When she had first noticed that she was feeling light-headed, he had fussed over her with concern – almost too much concern, she realized now. She couldn't remember exactly when he had escorted her outside, or suggested a ride home, but somewhere on the walk to the car, she had become conscious of him holding on to her a bit too insistently, furtively glancing around himself as he steered her away from the lights and into the shadows. Amidst the gathering haze that was enveloping her brain, a faint alarm had gone off and she had instinctively pried herself from his grasp. What she remembered after that was a jumble of sensations, jagged bricks scraping her back as she was shoved against a wall, rough hands groping and pawing at her, Andy's gray eyes turning cold and steely, his voice hissing out harsh words as she tried to resist. Vanessa had always thought she was smart enough and tough enough to fight her way out of something like this, but her head was reeling and her fists and elbows flailed aimlessly. Seizing her wrist, Andy had twisted one arm behind her back and stifled her cries with his mouth. Somehow she had found his foot with her own and had driven her stiletto heel down onto it as hard as she could. He had barked out in pain, his grip faltering enough to let her wrench free. Vanessa's fingers had fumbled for the pendant she wore, and with a fleeting thought of _This had better work!_ she had squeezed it.

Recoiling from her, Andy had howled out loud and clamped his hands to his skull. Stumbling away from him as fast as her unsteady legs could carry her, Vanessa had bolted for the safety of the gym. She had scoffed when her father had given her the Brain-Freeze-Inator in the guise of a harmless piece of jewelry, insisting that she wear it to the dance, "Just in case some boy thinks he can get grabby," but at that moment, all she could think was, _Thanks, Dad._

Breathless, she had staggered into the gym, not even certain what she intended to do. All she had wanted was to get out of there – but how? The only prospect worse than calling her mother would have been calling Dad – although there was something tempting in the idea of him _inatoring_ that creep Andy into oblivion. She was still shaking and starting to feel nauseous, until an unexpected wave of relief had coursed through her at the sight of Candace Flynn. Vanessa had been surprised to see the red-headed girl; Candace was a year younger than she was, and a year behind her in school. But, of course, she was there with her boyfriend, Jeremy Johnson – Vanessa was pretty sure that was his name; he was the blond guy who had once given her Dad guitar lessons. Drawing a few glares and mutters, Vanessa had pushed her way through the other couples to reach them. Whatever she looked like, Candace and Jeremy had reacted in alarm to her appearance, and had each gotten hold of one of her arms and steered her clear of the crowd. She had blathered out some vague, disjointed account of what had just happened, and Jeremy had said at once, "Come on, we'll take you home." Candace had waited inside with her while Jeremy brought his car around. Vanessa wouldn't have considered the other girl a close friend, although they had developed a pleasant acquaintance. But Candace had put a sympathetic arm around her, asking if she was all right, and keeping up a soothing patter of reassurance until they were all in the car. Only at this point had Vanessa turned to her and said, "I don't want to go home. Can we go to your house?"

Mrs. Flynn-Fletcher had been wonderful to her. Mr. Fletcher had appeared briefly when they first came in, then had discreetly removed himself as his wife took Vanessa under wing. Ferb and Phineas were nowhere to be seen. They were probably asleep; it had to be past their bedtime – although at some point later Vanessa had thought she recalled hearing a soft step on the stairs and seeing a faint shadow on the wall. With some prompting from Candace, Vanessa had told Mrs. Flynn-Fletcher as much of what had happened as she felt like recounting. "I don't know," she had admitted, recalling the accusation Andy had thrown at her, "maybe I _did_ lead him on. We were dancing kind of close. But – it didn't _mean_ anything."

"Of course not," Candace's mom had soothed her. "Some boys will take anything as an excuse to start grabbing."

"That guy was a creep," Candace had chimed in helpfully.

"Yeah," Vanessa had rubbed her aching head. "I just wish I'd picked up on it sooner."

There had been talk of what to do about Andy, but Vanessa had been too exhausted to deal with any more just then. Mrs. Flynn-Fletcher had agreed that what the girl needed right now was a good night's rest. She had even called Vanessa's mom to let her know that her daughter had come home with Candace and wanted to stay, and managed to make it sound like a harmless teenage sleepover. Thankful, Vanessa had gone upstairs with Candace. In the morning, there would be time enough to deal with things, and clearer heads with which to do it.

_Continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

Dream Date Nightmare – Part Two

Now, sitting up in Candace's bed, Vanessa became aware that she needed the bathroom, and seized this excuse to get up and try to walk off the nightmare. Once she was done, though, she couldn't bring herself to go back to bed. Burdened by the dread of falling asleep again, she hesitated for only a moment before deciding to go downstairs and turn on the television. Surely that wouldn't disturb anyone. She tiptoed down to the living room and found the remote, pressing down on the volume button as she switched on the TV in hopes that the sound wouldn't be too loud when it came on. Scrolling through the program guide, she looked for something to watch, something to distract and calm her. At this hour, nearly everything was infomercials, but at last she stumbled upon the rerun of some old sitcom from the '70s. She remembered this show; she used to watch it with her Dad when she was little. It had been out of date even then, but it was one of Dad's favorites, and he would laugh so hard at the crazy antics on screen. It was one of those sitcoms where somebody says something that's misconstrued, and the snoopy next door neighbor gets the wrong package delivered after his in-laws come to visit and somebody has two dates on the same night and they have to paint a white line down the middle of the room… Vanessa curled up on the couch and edged the volume up just enough so she could hear the canned laugh track. She didn't need the dialogue; the double-takes and door-slamming pratfalls conveyed enough. It was stupid and ridiculous, but comfortingly familiar, and as her heartbeat steadied and her breathing slowed, she inched into a more comfortable position and let her head droop against the sofa pillow…

Vanessa was not asleep – she was still conscious of the laugh track from the television, and her eyes were only about three-quarters closed – but she was drowsy enough that the sound of footsteps and running water startled her back to full alertness and she jerked upright as she blurted out: "Who's there?"

The answering voice was soft and reassuring. "Just Ferb." His slight form was silhouetted by the light over the kitchen sink, and she could see that he was holding a glass in one hand. He approached cautiously as he said, "I didn't know you were down here."

She dropped her legs over the side of the couch and sat up the rest of the way. "I couldn't sleep." This was the first time she had seen Ferb tonight, although he didn't seem surprised that she was there. Not knowing how much he was aware of, however, she explained, "I came home with Candace; your Mom said I could stay here tonight."

Ferb nodded, and Vanessa got the impression that he knew everything. Or at least enough to understand why she was up watching sitcoms in the wee hours. "I'm sorry I disturbed you," he said, and turned for the stairs.

"Don't go!"

He paused at once, and looked back at her. Feeling suddenly embarrassed by her outburst, Vanessa stammered, "I mean… if you're not sleepy… I wouldn't mind some company." She supposed there must have been something pleading in her look, because Ferb calmly walked to the couch, set his glass of water on the end table, and took a seat. He turned his face toward the television, and a dry little smile tugged at one end of his mouth.

"My dad loves this show," he murmured. "I used to watch it with him, when we first came here."

"Yeah, mine, too," Vanessa acknowledged, amused by the coincidence.

"How are you feeling?" asked Ferb, his eyes still respectfully averted.

"Okay, I guess," Vanessa sighed. "My head's still kind of funny."

If she had any doubt as to Ferb's state of knowledge, he dispelled it at once. "I overheard you talking to Mum earlier. I wasn't meaning to eavesdrop," he hastened to assure her. "But, I woke up, and heard voices…"

So, that had been him on the stairs. Now, she flopped her head back against the cushions and groaned, "Ferb, how could I be so stupid?"

"You are not – " he began, but she cut him off.

"I was an _idiot_! They warn you over and over, never leave a guy alone with your drink, it only takes a second, blah blah blah, and what do I do? I let him bring me punch, and more punch, and when I start feeling light-headed, I think, oh, it's just because I didn't have enough dinner, and then I start thinking maybe some of the other kids spiked the punch bowl – I mean, that's what they do at proms, right? And Andy's acting all concerned, 'maybe you need some air,' 'maybe I should take you home,' and the next thing I know he's climbing all over me…" Vanessa bit her lip and rolled her eyes, heading off the expected criticism. "I know, I know – what was I thinking, I hardly even knew him, but he seemed like such a nice guy. Why couldn't I see…?"

She had avoided Ferb's eyes as she rattled on, but she could sense him watching and listening attentively. His fingertips lightly made contact with her clenched fist, and she turned her face toward him. In a quiet, steady voice, he told her, "You saw exactly what he wanted you to see; he made certain of that." She caught the glint of disdain in his eyes as he muttered, "He was a manipulative cad."

An unexpected chuckle reshaped her mouth into the quick spasm of a smile. "Did you actually just use the word _cad_?" It was so like Ferb, to come up with such a funny, archaic term at a time like this.

The slight twitch of his lips reflected her amusement as he replied, "Yes. Yes, I did. And I stand by those words. He was a cad and a bounder." Her fist relaxed under his calming touch, and he gave her hand a soft pat, fully engaging her attention before he said, "Vanessa, none of this was your fault. You did absolutely nothing wrong."

His eyes were fixed on hers, and in them she saw nothing but pure trust and sincerity. He wasn't just trying to make her feel better, he really believed it. She felt the tears forming against her will, and tried to choke back the surge of emotion, but it was too strong to be stopped. "Oh, Ferb…" With an audible sob, Vanessa flung her arms around the boy's neck and buried her face on his shoulder. She felt him flinch in surprise at the contact, and for an instant she thought she had taken too great a liberty, but before she could bring herself to withdraw, his arms had eased gingerly around her, and his palms were making small, gentle circles on her shoulder blades. There was nothing to him, thought Vanessa as she held on tight; he was just this skinny kid, no more than twelve, but his serenity was an anchor for her in the storm of her tears.

"Shhhhhhhhh-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh…" A low, soothing sound came from his throat and, as the tempest began to calm, she raised herself from his shoulder and rested her forehead for just a moment against his.

"Thanks, Ferb," she murmured faintly.

His only reply was another soft, "Shhhh…"

Vanessa raised her head as a curious thought fluttered into her mind. "Doonkelberry pie…"

Ferb pulled away and covered his mouth with one hand as he muttered, "From dinner."

Only now did she realize that she had smelled it on him. "My mom used to make Doonkelberry pie when I was little," Vanessa recalled. The half-forgotten memory turned bittersweet as she confessed, "She sort of swore off Doonkelberries after the divorce."

"Mum makes it all the time," said Ferb. "It's Phineas's favorite. He'll tell you it's _our_ favorite," there was a hint of good-humored resignation in his tone. "But I'm still a bit more partial to cherry. Would you like a piece?" he suggested.

Dabbing at her eyes with the sleeve of Candace's nightgown, Vanessa nodded, and followed Ferb to the kitchen. With a gesture, he offered her a seat at the table and, without comment, produced a box of tissues. Vanessa made use of them while Ferb cut slices of pie and poured glasses of milk. He served her first, but she waited for him to bring his own portion to the table and sit down before she dug in. One bite, and her eyes went wide. "Mmm, Ferb, this is wonderful!"

"Mum is the best cook ever," he answered, with a proud little smile. "And that is something Phineas and I agree on."

"Mmph," Vanessa tried not to speak while savoring the flaky crust. Once she had finished that mouthful, however, she asked a question prompted by his earlier remark about his brother. "Why doesn't Phineas know your favorite pie?"

Ferb was quiet and thoughtful as he took another bite, and another after that. At length, he said, "I think the world of Phineas. He's my brother, and I couldn't ask for a better one."

When he fell silent again, Vanessa prompted, "But…"

Ferb picked up the cue. "He can be a bit… oblivious."

Vanessa lowered her voice as she asked, "Are we talking about the Isabella thing?"

Ferb gave a noncommital shrug, then confessed. "I'm never certain how oblivious he is about that. Sometimes I think he simply doesn't know what to do about it. He is eleven, you know."

Vanessa stifled an inward chuckle at this. With that mature voice of his, and that accent, Ferb made it sound as if the brotherly age difference was years instead of just a few months.

"Phineas has a strong point of view," he said, after some consideration. "It doesn't always occur to him that not everyone shares it." A slight smile crossed his face, and he seemed almost apologetic for how his words sounded. "All part of a brilliant mind, I suppose."

"Well, you should know," Vanessa teased, making him blush. She knew he always modestly rebuffed such compliments, but that only made her persist in offering them.

True to form, he shook his head. "Phineas is the genius. Seriously. He's the idea man, I'm just the chap with the blueprints."

She gave him the smile and nod that said, _Yeah, right_, and went back to devouring her pie. They both concentrated on eating for a while, then Ferb surprised her by softly saying, "It can be a bit frustrating at times, though." Her eyes met his, and she gave a little wave of her fork to encourage him. It took a bit longer before he was ready to speak, but at length, he said, "We made a cartoon a couple of years ago. Ourselves as superheroes. Poor Candace was the villain," he confessed, with a rueful chuckle. "Everyone else got to choose their super powers. But Phineas chose mine. He gave me a tool belt and lots of cool gadgets."

"Well, that does kind of suit you," Vanessa pointed out.

"I was called Ferb Guy."

Vanessa spluttered and tried not to choke on her pie. "Okay, he could have come up with a better name than that. Like, the Drillinator or something. So, what would you have chosen for your super powers?"

He clearly had an answer for this, but he simply took a drink of milk and poked at his pie.

"Come on, Ferb," she sighed. "I just had a complete emotional breakdown in front of you. You can tell me."

Still examining his pie, he stated, "I would be called the Silencer, and I would have the power to make people stop talking so I could get a word in edgewise."

The blow knocked her back in her chair and her fork clattered onto the plate as she stammered, "Oh, Ferb – I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go on like that…"

His head snapped up and his eyes locked with hers and she saw his expression, much stronger than she was used to seeing from him, shocked and mortified as he blurted, "Oh, heavens, no! I never meant you! I'm always happy to listen to you!" He had made himself almost breathless, and blushed slightly as he said, "In fact, I shouldn't be taking over the conversation now. Forgive me." With a respectful wave of his fork and an attentively concerned look, Ferb conveyed to her an invitation to resume unburdening herself to him.

Vanessa shook her head. "I've bent your ear enough tonight. In fact," she hinted awkwardly, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything to anyone about…" She twitched her head in the direction of the sofa.

Ferb held up a hand in pledge, then pantomimed drawing a zipper across his lips.

"So," she encouraged him, "tell me about the Silencer."

"Oh," he waved this away. "I only meant – well, they're all so talkative. My family, our friends... The Flynns have the Gift of the Gab, as they say. And my father can be rather rambly at times."

This sounded all too familiar to Vanessa, and she offered a sympathetic nod as she reclaimed her fork and resumed eating.

Ferb confided, "I can't tell you how many times I've been asked a question, and before I can put together three words, someone else has jumped in and interrupted and we're off on another tangent. And on the occasion that I do manage to get off more than one sentence, Phineas makes such a fuss: 'My, we're chatty today!'" He gave an exasperated flash of his eyes toward the ceiling. "Then they wonder why I'm so quiet." Ferb seemed to think he had expressed too much at this point, because he nudged his pie and diverted the conversation back to her by asking, "What would your super power be?" The question caught her off guard, and prompted him to add, "If that's not too personal."

Reflecting on her evening, and how she had made her escape, Vanessa decided, "I'd be Freeze Queen, and use my Brain Freeze Ray on people."

Ferb winced and gave a little chuckle. "That sounds painful."

"Don't worry," she assured him with a small smile. "I wouldn't use it on you."

"I thought I saw the lights on down here," a new voice startled them, as Ferb's mom came from the stairs. "Everything all right, sweetie?" she asked.

Vanessa looked to Ferb, then realized when Mrs. Flynn-Fletcher lightly touched her shoulder that the question was directed to her. "Yeah – I just woke up, and – well, I had a hard time going back to sleep; I wanted to watch TV for a little while. Then Ferb came down for a glass of water."

"Oh, I know what this one came down for," the woman remarked, eyeing her son. Vanessa thought she saw Ferb flinch slightly before his mother elaborated. "This growing boy can clean out a refrigerator faster than I can refill it! I should have known I couldn't keep him out of that pie." She circled around behind Ferb to hug him around the shoulders and kiss the top of his head. This time there was a definite blush and an embarrassed little smile as his eyes met Vanessa's.

"It's really great," Vanessa complimented her. "I hope you don't mind…"

"Oh, not at all, hon, you're welcome. But when you finish that, I think you really ought to try to get some sleep. And you, young man," she ruffled the green hair, "should be in bed, too."

He nodded, shoveling in doonkelberries. His mother headed back for the stairs, with a parting remark of, "Ferb, don't forget to clean up when you're done."

"Yes, Mum," he mumbled after her.

Vanessa was down to the last bites of crust, and wiped her mouth as she finished. "Thanks, Ferb. For everything." She picked up her plate and glass as she rose from the table, and Ferb waved a hand at her, and shook his head.

"I'll get that," he insisted, gulping down pie.

She set the dishes back down, and regarded him with a fond smile. Vanessa never would have guessed when she had come downstairs that she would go back up feeling so much better. "'Night, Ferb."

"Good night, Vanessa," Ferb returned the smile. "Sweet dreams."

THE END


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